Bearing Down
by Reza Allah-Bakhshi
Making a living in the skateboarding industry is nearly impossible. There are only a handful of people who will ever turn pro. Growing up, Markovich looked up to classic skateboard heroes like Mark Gonzales and Chris Hensley, but his true influences were his parents. His dad made him who he is today. He drove him to every contest and would even tell him what lines he should run. Only now does Markovich admit that his dad knew more about what the judges wanted than he did.
The first time Markovich picked up a skateboard he was 13, and within four months he was sponsored.
He spent the next few years honing his skills, competing in contests when he could.
“I lived in Gulf Breeze Fla., and all my friends surfed but I wasn’t allowed to go to the beach, so I did the next best
thing: I skateboarded,” he said.
He was an extraordinary skater but a below average student. At 17, he failed an English test that kept him from receiving his diploma. Rather than crush his dreams, his dad let him skate in the National Skateboard Association’s amateur contest that year, but not unless he finished school in the summer and continued on to college.
At the contest, his dad spoke to Jim Muir of Dogtown Skateboards, who told him that if Markovich placed in the top 10 he would sign him on as pro for Dogtown.
He scored second, and with that rite of passage, he graduated to the next level of skateboard stardom.
In 1995, his father, his biggest influence and best friend, died. Markovich was 24, and it was the hardest year of his life. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Even the sight of a skateboard triggered bad feelings.
Within months, he had left almost all of his sponsors. He wanted to take time out to rethink his situation. Completely alone, he spent the next few months in isolation, rarely leaving his couch to do much of anything. He contemplated going to college and finding a new job; maybe he was too old for skateboarding.
He called his mom and told her he felt like quitting skateboarding – after his dad died, he felt paralyzed by grief. She didn’t want him to quit. She knew it was one of the only things in his life that he ever loved, and they both knew if his dad were still alive, he’d be “pissed” at him if he quit.
“I loved my father to death, and here I am, going into this self-pity shit and feeling sorry for myself.”
After a couple of months off the skateboard, he finally stepped back on.
Just for a little session.
After that session, something clicked. His world seemed to open up again and perspective came back into his life.
Soon after, he reclaimed his sponsors and started skating again. He learned a lot from his father’s death, and it seemed to influence the way he lived his life from then on.
“My dad taught me to never feel sorry for myself and to never let others feel sorry for me either.”
Markovich has been burned numerous times since his dad’s death. First by a partner in a shoe company he was trying to start and then by his sponsor, Tum Yeto, when Markovich tried to help him start a new board company. But the hardest blow was when he found out his wife was sleeping with other men. Markovich met her at a trade show, and the only thing they had in common was alcohol.
“I met her not too long after my father passed, and I was drinking pretty heavily,” Markovich said.
On the right side of his neck he has a tattoo that reads, “Trust No One,” which he got the day after he confronted her. The marriage had been tumultuous for a while. He put up with her abuses because he thought she needed his help. Her constant drinking and cocaine addiction made his life hard, but he had taken a vow to stick with her in sickness and in health. He was convinced she was sick.
He learned about the infidelity while he was away on tour. After a talk with her friend, she let it slip. It was the last straw between them, and he flew back to his home in Fullerton, Calif., to end the marriage. While he was home, he learned about another incident that happened between her
and a skater on his team, who was staying with them at the time. He couldn’t believe that he had been lied to – not only by his wife, but also by a guy who smiled at him every day, accepting free housing and boards. Markovich kicked her out of his house and said he kicked the “bastard” out of California.
But he didn’t let the incident destroy him.
He got remarried on New Year’s Day in 2006 to a girl named Amy. She is into art and skates a little herself. He knows he’s with the right person. And they’re both into tattoos.
But the greatest story of Markovich’s life has yet to be written. The venture that is going to define him as a skater, an entrepreneur, an artist and a man will be Crimson. Run by his rules and formed from his artistic vision, Crimson is hisultimate creative endeavor.
He dreamed up the concept for Crimson less than a year ago. Markovich was itching to create something; he was out with an injury and the estimated recovery time was at least eight months. He and longtime friend Charlie Thomas played with the idea of starting a skateboard wheel company. But it wasn’t until Markovich reconnected with an old friend that the inspiration for Crimson, a full-blown skateboarding company, was born.
Crimson was off to a good start from the beginning. The company won “best team” at the Texas Skate Jam, and interest has since grown exponentially. Currently, the Crimson brand, which encompasses everything from clothing and stickers to skateboards, is sold all over the United States and overseas.
The company’s motto, “Bleed Skateboarding,” is asaying that Markovich came up with to sum up what Crimson and its riders are all about. If you want to ride, promote or just work for Crimson, you have to bleed skateboarding. Markovich has broken 17 bones during his career and still has two broken wrists, but skateboarding is the only thing he truly knows.
Markovich says he’ll never quit skateboarding. Even when his bones are too brittle to jump down a set of stairs, he’ll still be in the background trying to give back to the industry.
“Even if I could give back 10 percent of what skateboarding has given me – which I think is impossible – even if I could give back half of that, I’d be satisfied.”
* * *
Markovich walks into the Crimson warehouse wearing a huge jacket, brown cords and black slip-ons with his Apple laptop in hand. He runs around the warehouse greeting everyone. He asks them to gather around to check out a new design he’s created for a board.
At his computer, he stares at the images before him, scratching his head. There are four samples of how the skateboard will look, but they aren’t perfect. Everyone likes the first one, but Markovich still doesn’t think it’s quite right. He spends the next half-hour manipulating the images
and changing the colors. Finally, after creating another thirty samples, everyone agrees the basic black and white board looks the best. Simple. Just like Crimson. But sometimes, simple things come from complex places.